


Put Me Back Together Again

by mayisingtoyou



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Hispanic Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 08:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17556482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayisingtoyou/pseuds/mayisingtoyou
Summary: Lance couldn't pinpoint the moment he had lost himself. He supposed it had happened gradually. The emptiness had crept up on him. It hid in the dark crevices of the castle, where the fluorescent lights couldn't reach, and loomed behind his pilot's seat during the heat of battle.He hadn't noticed the loss of himself until he re-entered Earth's atmosphere. Then, it dawned on him, like gravity crashing down on his shoulders.Or the one where Lance struggles with trauma, but with a bit of help from Hunk, learns to heal and move on.





	Put Me Back Together Again

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution for the Love of Blue Big Bang! Not only is this my first ever fic, it's also my first ever fandom event, and I really enjoyed being a of part of it! Many thanks to my wonderful beta ghostmayawrite and my really talented artist hystericalcherries for creating such beautiful art.
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance couldn't pinpoint the moment he had lost himself. He supposed it had happened gradually. The emptiness had crept up on him. It hid in the dark crevices of the castle, where the fluorescent lights couldn't reach, and loomed behind his pilot's seat during the heat of battle.

He hadn't noticed it encroaching on his mind. He'd only registered the feeling that something was off, like a puzzle piece that didn't fit quite right, or like a planet knocked off its axis, or like the twang of an untuned guitar, or... something like that. He lacked the words for it. Poetics had never been his strong suit.

He hadn't noticed the loss of himself until he re-entered Earth's atmosphere. Then, it dawned on him, like gravity crashing down on his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

"Ya no sonríes, mi amor. ¿Que te pasa?" his mom asked. Her somber eyes lingered on his face, a half-folded shirt bunched up in her hands. _You don't smile anymore, my love. What's the matter?_

They were in his childhood home in Varadero Beach, Cuba. It had been three months since the paladins had returned to Earth. Unlike the others, though, Lance had not chosen to remain at the Galaxy Garrison. There was something about the urgency of the Garrison's questions, or the vicinity of the lions in their hangar, that made Lance feel unease. So he had come home.

"No sé, Mamá." Lance picked at the loose threads of his mom's quilt as he sat on the edge of her bed. There was a pile of clean laundry and unspoken things between them, which he didn't want to talk about now. He’d been careful, hadn’t he?

She made a noncommittal noise. "Mm. And when are you going to tell me about your adventures in space? I'm very curious, you know." His mom offered him a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Lance managed one back.

"Nothing... remarkable happened. There's really nothing out there. Everything's dark and freezing," he answered carefully. And there _was_ nothing out there, not for him, anyway. Not anymore.

"Nothing happened? Even with you tagging along? I can't believe it," she joked, and her smile eased. Lance laughed dryly.

"No. Nada de nada. I behaved, Mamá. I didn't get myself into any trouble. Lo prometo," he promised. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes grim. She'd aged since he'd been gone. Worry lines riddled her forehead, and streaks of silver lightened her soft brown hair. Guilt weighed down on Lance’s chest. Had that been his fault?

“You should rest," she said, finally. "Tomorrow's going to be a big day."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" She and his grandmother had been hinting at a grand day for about a week now.

"You'll see," she responded, her voice too bright and too loud. It drained him, so he simply nodded.

"Buenas noches, Mamá. Que descanses." he said. _Rest well._

"Buenas noches."

His room was three doors down and across the hall from his mom's. The other three had belonged to Marco, Luis, and Veronica, but they had long since moved out. Lance closed the door behind himself and stared at the bare walls of his room with weary eyes. They hadn't always been that way. Bare, he meant. Before he'd left for the garrison, there must've been at least ten or so posters up on the farthest wall. The majority of them had shown scenes of space exploration, with an odd one or two of the fighter jets he had hoped to pilot one day. But he couldn't bear to look at them anymore... so he tore them down.

As Lance stepped towards his bed, a light caught his eye, and his heart froze. It was his phone. It was on his desk, and it blinked incessantly.

"No," he whispered, but his mind had already assumed the worst. "Please, no."

Something had happened. There was an unforeseen threat, and Voltron needed its red paladin. He had to leave home. He had to leave _Earth_. No, he didn't want to answer it-

 _The Galra are gone,_ a rational part of his mind argued.

“They’re gone,” he repeated out loud and picked up his phone with a trembling hand.

**5:32 P.M.**

**Keith Kogane Said:**

Quit it, Lance. I know you're reading these.

**8:13 P.M.**

**Katie Holt Said:**

Earth to Lance?

**9:58 P.M.**

**Takashi Shirogane Said:**

Lance, I understand this is hard. I am here for you. Call me.

**10:16 P.M.**

**Hunk Garrett Said:**

Lance, buddy?

Anxiety coiled in the pit of stomach, so he shut the phone off and turned off the lights. He'd get back to them in the morning, or at least, that's what he always told himself.

He lay down in his bed and let out a wavering breath. Though the lights were shut off, Lance wasn't in total darkness. There was a nightlight plugged in on a neighboring wall that illuminated the room in a cold blue light. He hated to admit it, but he'd grown fond of the castle lights. They never really turned off but dimmed to a hazy blue glow. The castle was never dark. Not that he was afraid of the dark, not really. It was more like... he was afraid of what hid in the dark. Whenever he found himself in complete darkness, he’d braced himself for the burn of yellow eyes or the foreboding violet lights of Galra tech. Plus, sharpshooter or not, you could only shoot so well in the dark.

At the thought, Lance’s fingers reached underneath his pillow until they grasped his Bayard. It was the only part of Voltron Lance had brought home with him, and it never left his bed. His breathing evened, and with his hand grasped firmly around his Bayard, Lance drifted into an uneasy sleep. It wasn't long until his nightmares began.

 _Guess it's going to be another sleepless night,_ he thought, and pushed himself up.

Putting on his lion slippers, Lance shuffled out of the room. The tension that had crept into his shoulders lessened at the soft murmur of the TV. His abuelita was on the couch, her quilt draped over her legs, her attention turned onto one of her telenovelas.

"¿Es que no duermes o algo?" he asked. _Do you not sleep?_

She glanced up at him and smiled. "I could ask you the same thing, mijo," she said, and pat the couch besides her.

Lance's lips quirked up into a sad smile. They sort of did this a lot. He plopped on the couch beside her and let her rearrange the quilt around them.

"¿Y Ernesto? What's he been up to?" he managed, referring to one of the romantic leads of the series.

His abuela chuckled. "He and Adriana are in very hot water. Lazáro is going to find out, te lo digo, Lance."

He managed a sincere laugh, and though his abuela smiled, he could tell there was something sad about it. Everything was sadder, nowadays. He rested his head on her shoulder and settled in to watch the rest of the episode with her. She touched his hand. Her touch was delicate, as if he were made of porcelain, as if he were damaged and on the verge of breaking. But he wasn’t broken, was he... ?

Lance doesn’t recall falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

His mom wasn’t there when Lance woke up.

Instead, he came downstairs to find Abuelita preparing her morning coffee. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of his footsteps and smiled.

"Buenos días, Lance. Nice to see you up bright and early," she said and nudged him playfully.

He crossed his arms but forced a smile. He may or may not have become used to sleeping in 'til noon, but the nightmares didn’t really leave him much of a choice.

"Buenos días, Abuelita. It's nice to see you too," he said and leaned forward to kiss both of her cheeks. "¿Cómo dormiste?" _How did you sleep?_

"Better than you, I'll bet. That old couch is as hard as a rock. It pains me to leave you there, but I can't carry you like I used to," she sighed.

Lance flushed with embarrassment but managed a good-natured laugh. "¡Abuela!" he said.

"Ay, disculpa, mijo, you're just so big now!" she said.

He shook his head and smiled, his arms crossed over his chest. "Okay, está bien. Hey, do you know where mom is?"

"She went out to take care of some things," she answered, and immediately busied herself with a coffee ring that had formed on the counter.

 _Well, that was vague_. Lance arched an eyebrow and leaned against the counter beside her. "What sort of things~?" he drawled, and promptly got himself whacked with a rag.

"Ow!" he cried.

"I just cleaned that, muchacho! She's doing things, mijo, now what are you still doing here? Don't you have chores?" she chided him as she shooed him out of the kitchen, waving her cleaning rag around threateningly. Lance could see she was still smiling, however. _Oh, they're definitely hiding something._

"Okay, okay, ya voy," he said and managed to grab an empty basket before Abuelita barred him from the kitchen.

"And do try to have fun! You do remember how to do that, don’t you?" his grandma called out as he walked out the door.

He frowned at that. Of course he did, it was just… hard nowadays.

The sun shone bright and warm on his skin, and the wind that carded through his tattered baseball tee carried the scent of ocean spray and the promise of good surf. Maybe he could slip away to the beach after whatever his mom had planned for today. The thought and the weather raised his spirits a bit. His time in the cold expanse of space felt like a distant dream under the warmth of the Cuban sun. For the most part, his ghosts only haunted him at night.

Lance's family lived in an old farmhouse that had originally belonged to his great grandpa. He left the house to his Abuelo, who had left it to Abuelita when he passed away, many years ago. It'd be sort of stretch to call him a farm boy, though. Sure, they had a few chickens, a goat or two, and now Kaltenecker, but they weren't really in the business of growing crops, his mother's herb garden aside. _Technically_ not a farm.

Speaking of Kaltenecker, Lance walked up to her pen and waved at her. "Hey, beautiful! How're we doing this fine morning?" he asked and set his basket down before he climbed over the wooden fence and into her grazing pen.

Kaltenecker mooed in response and trudged forward to greet him. He smiled and ran his hands across her soft pelt. "I am very glad to hear that. Oh, me? I could be better. All these sleepless nights really are wearing on me."

The cow made a noncommittal noise and dropped her head to graze on a patch of grass beside him. Lance sighed and patted her side. "Yeah... But don't you worry about me, old girl, I'm sure they'll stop. Eventually."

He reached over and grabbed a nearby bucket, before he milked the cow in relative silence. Maybe he should go talk to Shiro about them, the nightmares. _Didn't he used to have them too?_ he thought, before he remembered that all his friends were overseas. If they still were his friends, with him not talking to them and all.

Lance finished milking Kaltenecker, fed the goats, and then grabbed his empty basket before heading to the chicken coup. He unlatched the door and peeked his head inside slowly. He and one of their hens, Anita, sort of had a bit of a complicated history, and Lance wasn’t taking any chances.

“Oh, come on,” he muttered underneath his breath when Anita glared up at him from her nest.

He ducked inside the coup and offered the chickens the sweetest, most handsomest smile he could muster. That one always worked on the ladies.

"Hola, María, Anita, and Lucía. You're all looking wonderful this morning! Don't mind me, I'm just going to-" he crouched and began to collect the eggs from the two nests with no chickens on them.

And now for Anita’s nest. He crept towards the chicken, hands outstretched.

"Hey, linda. Remember me? It's your buddy, Lance. I was just in here, uh, yesterday? You know, when you pecked me? Let's not do that today, okay?" he pleaded. Anita shifted her wings suspiciously. _Damn. Had he said the wrong thing?_

He reached towards her slowly. The very moment he laid hands on her, Anita lost all her cool. She flapped her wings violently and squawked at him, practically trying to impale his fingers with her beak.

_Ow, yeah, he had definitely said the wrong thing!_

"Ow, ow, ow," he said as he carefully lifted the hen off her nest, taking her brutal pecks like the paladin he was. Once she was off, he quickly removed the eggs from her nest, and then returned her to her roost. His hands _hurt_ from the ordeal, but he had a basket full of eggs, so he'd called that a job well done.

Lance heard his mother's car pull up into their driveway as he was leaving the chicken coup. He walked around the house to greet her and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight in front of him. The egg basket slipped from his hands.

There, standing besides his mom, a tight lipped smile on his sun-kissed face, was Hunk.

"Hey, Lance," he said, and though it was tense, Hunk's voice was warmth and honey and so devastatingly familiar, Lance couldn't help but melt. The walls he'd built around himself crumbled, for a moment, and he was back in the castle of lions, his hands resting against the cold glass of the control room windows, brown eyes drowning in the infinite expanse of space and planets and stars and a species that wanted him dead and- No. He couldn't break down. Not here, not with his mom staring at him, an expectant smile on her face.

"Hi. Hey. What are you- What's going on?" Lance asked, his eyes flickering between his mom and his best friend, and he hated the anger in his voice.

"Aren't you happy to see me?” Hunk asked, voice sickly-sweet, and oh, yeah, he was mad too.

Lance’s mom, who’s eyes had been glittering with excitement, picked up the tension between them, and stared at them with confusion.

"Well, Hunk reached out to me to see how you were doing and I remembered how much you'd talk about him back at the Garrison-" she started.

Heat crept onto his face and he stared at his mom, mortified. So he may have told his mom about the crush he’d had on his Hunk back at the Garrison, but that had been strictly confidential information. "¡Ma!"

“And,” she continued, “I thought it'd be good for you to have a friend around, even if it's only for a couple of days. So I invited him to come stay with us," she said.

"How long is he staying, exactly?" he asked.

"Just a week. I wanted to stay longer, but my dad really needs my help around the garage," Hunk explained.

Lance nodded. He hadn't known Hunk had been working as a mechanic at his dad's garage. But he guessed that's what happened when you stopped talking to someone for three months. You didn't know a lot of things.

"Why don't we show you inside?" his mom asked Hunk, her voice sweet and polite. The look she gave Lance, however, definitely implied there’d be questions asked later. He sighed.

Lance stepped forward to help shoulder one of Hunk's bags. "Come on, Hunk," he murmured, his eyes fixed pointedly on his beat up shoes.

The three of them made their way inside the farmhouse.

“Hunk, sweetie, will you excuse Lance and I for a moment?” she asked and pulled Lance into the kitchen before Hunk had a chance to reply.

Okay, apparently there’d be questions asked _now_.

“Lance, what is the matter with you? You’re being awfully rude to that boy,” his mom scolded him.

“It’s complicated, Mom.” Because what else was he supposed to say? _‘The thought of the paladins makes me anxious, mom’?_

She frowned, and the excitement in her eyes dimmed. “Did I do the wrong thing, Lance?” she asked and oh, no, he hadn’t meant to make her upset.

He sighed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, Mami. We’ll work it out.”

Something in her eyes told Lance she didn’t fully believe him, but she nodded. “Okay. I’ll fix you boys up some lunch.”

“Thanks, Mamá,” Lance said, kissing her on the cheek.

Hunk waited for him by the stairs, his hands in his pockets.

“Come on,” Lance muttered and headed upstairs without waiting for him. Hunk followed behind him slowly.

Lance held the door to his room open for him and pointedly avoided his gaze. Hunk walked inside, and after a moment of thinking, he set down his bags in a neat pile beside Lance's closet. Lance shut the door and did the same with the one he was carrying.

A heavy silence settled over them.

"Listen, buddy-" Lance started.

"I messaged you every day," Hunk said. His eyes were downcast, his fists clenched by his side.

Lance blinked. "What?" he asked.

Hunk stepped towards him. The yellow paladin straightened his back and locked eyes with him. They brimmed with anger. Apprehension prickled underneath Lance's skin.

"I have messaged you every day since you moved," Hunk stated. “I have left you voicemails and emails and not once did I hear from you, Lance. Not once."

Guilt crept into the pit of Lance's stomach. He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze, though he still felt the burn of Hunk's eyes on his face. "Hunk, I-"

"I'm not finished. Do you have any idea how hurt-" Hunk let out an unsteady breath. "-How worried I was about you? We promised, all of us, that we'd stick together when we got back home. We were supposed to be a team, Lance. But then you stopped talking to us. For months. You completely cut us off. What's wrong with you man?!"

 _What's wrong with you, man?_ The question echoed in the empty chambers of his heart. _What's wrong, Lance?_ Why was there this hollow thing in the place he'd once stood? He was here, wasn’t he, his feet firmly rooted on solid ground, but then why did he sometimes feel like he was adrift in the cold, incomprehensible emptiness of space? Where were the others then? Why was he always alone? Why-

No, he couldn’t to do this. He clenched his own fists and closed the distance between him and Hunk. At his full height, Hunk loomed over him, his brow furrowed, an unreadable expression on his handsome face, at once an ally, a friend, a threat. For an instant, Lance hated him.

"Then why are you here?" he whispered.

“Excuse me?" Hunk said.

"If you hate me so much, then why are you here, Hunk?!" he yelled.

"I'm here because I'm your best friend!" Hunk said.

The hate and anger drained from Lance's body. It left him hollow.

The tension dissipated from Hunk's body too. He placed a gentle hand on Lance's shoulder and Lance warmed underneath his touch.

"I'm your best friend, buddy. I know you well enough to tell when something is seriously wrong," he murmured.

"Hunk, I can't-" his voice broke, and he closed his eyes. "Look, man, I'm sorry. I never meant for it to get this bad. I thought about you every day. You, and Pidge, and Shiro, and even Keith. But I was working through something, and I just- ... I couldn't. I never meant to hurt you. You're...You're my best friend too. I am so sorry."

Hunk smiled sadly and brought him in for a hug. Tears pricked at Lance's eyes, and he wrapped his arms around his closest friend. Laugh at him all you want, but it felt like coming home. The scent of machinery and home-baked goods lingered on Hunk's skin, and it enveloped Lance like a safety blanket.

Hunk let go first. He looked more like himself. "It's okay, Lance. I'm just glad you're okay."

Lance nodded and sniffled. "Allergies, you know?" he motioned at his teary eyes. 

Hunk chuckled. "Allergies. Right. The pollen count is really high this time of year."

A laugh bubbled up in Lance's chest. It took him by surprise.

"Shut up, man. Brought your swimming trunks?" Lance asked.

Hunk nodded. "They're in my bag. Why?" he said.

Lance grinned. "Well, we could sit around and mope all day, or," he paused for dramatic emphasis, "we could shred up some waves."

"Uh, who are you, and what have you done with Lance?"

Lanced laughed brightly.

"Dude, you surf? Since when?" Hunk asked, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

"Since always? I try to stave off the surfer vibe. It doesn't suit me. I'm more of a lover boy, anyway," he winked and finger gunned in Hunk's direction, who laughed. The sound brought butterflies to Lance's stomach. He smiled and held the door open.

"Well. Are you coming~?" Lance asked, and a happy smile softened Hunk's face.

"You bet I am."

 

* * *

 

Hunk and Lance pieced their friendship back together over the next couple of days. Lance was surprised by how _easy_ it was. At first, he’d been sure that he’d spend the entire week trying (and failing) to make up for what he did, but when Hunk’s anger faded on that first day, it stayed away for good. His best friend was sort of amazing like that. He didn’t hold grudges. He was kind.

Hunk _was_ kind, he thought. Lance did his best to hide all the emotions he felt inside while Hunk was there, and if Hunk noticed that Lance startled easily, or that his smiles were a little forced, or that he lay awake for hours at a time at night, he didn’t ask.

Lance kind of loved him for that. Sooner or later, he knew that he had to tell someone, and from that first day onward, Lance decided it’d be Hunk. Just, not yet. Everything was still too much for Lance. The restlessness, the nightmares, the flashbacks, the emptiness, it all made dread creep into his stomach and talking about it would probably just make it worse.

Instead, Lance devoted himself to keeping himself, and Hunk, as busy as possible. They visited Varadero Beach _at least_ once every day, and Lance distracted himself by showing off his surfing skills for Hunk. Sometimes, after they’d both exhausted themselves while playing in the ocean, they’d come lay on the floor of his bedroom, pillows propped underneath their chests, and watch movies together. On those days, Lance had to steer Hunk away from any sci-fi movies. They made him nervous.

“Why Star Trek when we could watch the Breakfast Club?” he’d say. Hunk never argued.

Around the middle of the week, as Lance and Hunk we’re cooking up some of the eggs they’d collected earlier that morning, Abuelita came into the kitchen with a worried expression.

“¿Todo bien?” Lance asked, glancing back at her over his shoulder. _Everything okay?_ Hunk, who had been beating the eggs, a rag over his shoulder and one of Abuelita’s aprons tied around his waist, turned to look at her too, his forehead creasing with concern.

“You haven’t heard the news?” she asked.

“What news?” Lance said.

Abuelita turned on the old satellite radio she kept on the sill of the kitchen window. It whirred to life.

“-Expected to make landfall within the next 48 hours. Expect tropical storm force winds, four to eight inches of rain, freshwater water flooding and surge.”

“Awe man. That does not sound good,” Hunk said, setting his bowl down on the counter.

Oh, Lance did not like the sound of that at all. He’d learned pretty early on that storms, even small ones, did not mix well with him. However, this was the first _tropical storm_ he’d experience since he’d been back.

Lance submerged his hands in dishwater and pretended to scrub at a plate there to hide his trembling hands.

“Your mom and I are going to to head into town to get some supplies. You boys better make the best of the weather today because it won’t last very long,” she advised, leaving the kitchen.

Once she was gone, Hunk placed a large hand on the small of Lance’s back and leaned in close to his ear, his brown eyes soft with concern.

“Hey, man, you okay-“ he started.

“So what do you want to do?” Lance said quickly.

“What?” Hunk said.

“Before the storms hits. You heard Abuelita. We gotta make the best of it while it lasts, so. What do you want to do?”

Hunk pressed his lips together and stared at him for a moment before he sighed and dropped his hand.

“I wouldn’t be completely opposed to going to the beach again,” Hunk said, “the water will probably be too rough after the storm.”

“Great idea. We’ll leave right after brunch.” Lance desperately needed something to distract himself from the oncoming storm, and the ocean was as good of a thing as any, he guessed.

It was just past noon when they arrived at the beach.

"Wow," Hunk breathed.

The afternoon sun glittered on the vibrant waters of Varadero Beach. The rich colors of the sea- crystalline blues and turquoise and green- complimented the baby blue horizon and the golden sand of the beach. Unlike the last couple of days, the sea was calm. Waves, crested white with sea-foam, rippled over the water and swept across the shore.

Lance stared at the ocean, equally mesmerized. He could definitely get lost in this.

Hunk set their backpacks down on the sand. "Oh, man. I can't wait to get in there," he said, eyeing the ocean with wide smile.

"Neither can I," Lance said. The summer heat in Varadero was unbearable but it made the ocean incredibly attractive.

So Lance stuck the nose of his surfboard into the sand and tugged his shirt over his head. Sweat glistened on his tan shoulders and trickled down the toned muscles of his back. Immediately, someone's breath hitched behind him.

Okay, there's no way. He had definitely imagined that. Lance risked a furtive glanced over his shoulder and- Oh. Hunk was staring, his lips parted, and okay, Lance would admit, it may have been a shadow or something, but from where he stood, Hunk's eyes looked dark.

Lance's heart skipped a beat. _Play it cool, Lance_. His anxiety about the storm became background noise, for the moment. What could he say, flirting with a cute boy always took priority. With his back turned to Hunk, Lance stretched his arms above his head, and arched his back.

"It's so hot," he sighed, and turned to face Hunk. Oh, man. Maybe that had been too much. Hunk's cheeks and the bridge of his adorably round nose burned a dark shade of red. He stared at Lance with a dazzled expression and it made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

Okay, now he was committed. Lance feigned concern, his dark brows knitting close together. "Dude, I think you're overheating," he said, "we have to get you into the water, come on."

"Uh, r-right, yeah," Hunk stammered and averted his gaze shyly. Lance smiled. Hunk's hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and he hesitated before taking it off.

Lance was absolutely done for. Of course he had seen Hunk shirtless before. It's not like they hadn't shared a room at the Garrison, and sometimes the training room back at the castle could get really hot, but after all this time spent apart, Hunk's beauty hit him _hard_. The yellow paladin was tall and beefy. His muscles were covered by a soft layer of fat and Lance was definitely on board.

"Um, Lance?" Hunk asked.

Oh, great, now he was the one staring. "What? Nothing," Lance answered quickly. _Smooth, McClain._ "I mean, uh, come on!" To save himself from any further embarrassment, Lance took off towards the ocean.

The water was marvelous and it cooled Lance's skin; he was knee-deep by the time Hunk caught up.

"Oh, no, that's cold," Hunk said as the water swept across his feet.

Lance laughed. "Come on, Hunk, don't be such a big baby! It feels great!" he shouted.

"Relax, dude. I just need time to get adjusted to the temperature," he said, scowling.

Lance's blue eyes glittered mischievously and he smirked. "Do you now?" he called out, creeping towards Hunk playfully.

 Hunk gave him a suspicious look and drew back a little. "Lance, come on, don't-"

He hadn't even finished his sentence when Lance kicked up the ice-cold water at him.

Hunk gasped. "Lance!" he yelled, exasperated, as the blue paladin burst into laughter.

"Adjusted yet?" Lanced joked and splashed him again.

Hunk laughed and lifted his arms up to protect his face from the ice-cold water, and wow, he was really cute.

"Okay, that's it," Hunk said and lunged for him. Lance let out a surprised laugh and ducked out of the way. Before he knew it, he and Hunk were engaged in an all out chase, with Lance narrowly avoiding his friend's arms and splashing him with water at every chance he could.

It didn't take very long before Hunk's arms were around his waist and he proceeded to chuck Lance into the ocean.

Lance's head came up from underneath the water, his brown hair plastered to his head, and he let out a laugh as he held his hands up in surrender.

"All right, all right, you win," he said, his laughter winding down.

Offering him a shy smile, Hunk waded out to join Lance further in.

"Well, that was fun," Hunk said, and yeah, it was. It was the most fun Lance had had in a long time.

They fell into a comfortable silence and for a moment, Lance was content. Here, with the gentle waves lapping at his shoulders and Hunk at his side, everything that had happened- space, the Galra- it all seemed like a distant dream.

After a while, Lance glanced up at Hunk.

"Anyone ever tell you, you've got one shell of a body~?" Lance said with a smirk.

Hunk winced as if the line physically pained him. "Jeez."

"Oh, come on! That was a good one!" Lance cried. It _was_ one of his best lines.

"Sure, man, whatever you say," he said. "Man, I am so sad. I never want to leave. This place is beautiful.”

Lance nodded in agreement and floated on his back.

"You're telling me. I basically lived here," he said and motioned at the sea “That was before the Garrison, though." Before Voltron.

"You don't come out here anymore?" Hunk asked, tilting his head in confusion.

"I mean, yeah? I don't know. Not as much as I used to. It just-" Lance sighed. "It isn't the same."

He swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat and snuck a glance at Hunk. There was something sad in his eyes, his brow furrowed in the same way it did when Hunk had a piece of machinery he couldn't quite figure out.

“Lance, hey. I don’t mean to press, but… Is there something going on?” Hunk asked after a moment.

Lance rubbed the back of his neck, anxiety creeping into the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t know. I think-… I think my mom and my grandma are worried about me,” he said finally, avoiding Hunk’s honeycomb eyes.

“Well, yeah,” Hunk stated, as if it were obvious. “That’s sort of why I’m here.”

“What?” he said.

“Your mom. The real reason she invited me here was because she was worried about you, Lance. Have you told them anything? About…what happened out there?” he continued.

Lance shook his head. “I try not to worry them. I mean, they know about the lions, but so does everyone. I just,” he pressed his fingernails onto the palm of his hand, “I don’t want them to know.”

Hunk nodded. His fingers brushed the top of Lance’s hand and slowly Lance took it, intertwining their fingers together.

“I understand, buddy,” Hunk murmured, squeezing the smaller hand in his. “I think she misses you.”

“Who?” Lance asked.

“Red.”

Lance swallowed. He’d been ignoring her too.

“I mean, we all miss you, Lance. It’s not the same without you,” Hunk said.

“It’s probably a lot more boring,” Lance joked, but it fell flat.

“No, just… A lot more sad.”

Lance was quiet for a long time.

“I miss them too,” he murmured finally and stared up at the endless sky above them.

 

* * *

 

Lance lay on his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. The storm had short-circuited the power to the farmhouse, and let’s just say their backup generator was on its last leg. It probably had enough juice to power his emergency night light, but there was no way in hell that Lance was going to let Hunk see that part of him. He could do this. It was just a storm. He'd lived through plenty of these as a child. Their house, though old, was sturdy enough to withstand the winds that battered its sides. There was nothing to fear, besides the humidity and a muddy driveway. And yet... and yet every time he closed his eyes, he saw _them._

"...Hunk? You awake, buddy?"

"I'm up, Lance" came somewhere from the floor beside him. "What's up?"

Lance swallowed. "Uh, you know. Just bored. Want to do something?"

Hunk groaned and rolled over on his air mattress. "Lance, it's two in the morning. And, besides, we're stuck here until the storm blows over."

Lanced nodded, forgetting that Hunk couldn't see him in the pitch black of his room. "Right, yeah." A pause. "Can I join you?"

Hunk squinted at the lump that was Lance. "On the air mattress...?" he said slowly.

“Well, yeah..." he managed a lopsided grin. "It's lonely up here."

Hunk blushed. “How about, um... I join you up there? Your bed's bigger."

Lance's breath wavered. _Stay cool, McClain_ . "Uh, sure," he managed, and his voice definitely _did not_ crack. He heard the telltale groan of Hunk's flimsy air mattress, and then the creak of Lance's bed as Hunk crawled in beside him. Lance swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and he quickly rearranged his blankets and pillows so that he was pressed up against the wall. Hunk lay down beside him.

"Better?" Hunk asked.

"Mhm," Lance squeaked.

The silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever. _Did he fall asleep already?_ Lance dared a glance at his best friend. Though the darkness was thick around them, Hunk was close enough that Lance could just barely make him out. His eyes were closed, and there was a serene expression on his face, despite the storm that raged outside Lance's window. A thin blanket was strewn haphazardly over his waist. His yellow sleep shirt had ridden up, exposing his round tummy, and _boy_ was it hot in here. The storm must've obliterated the AC.

Lance risked another glance back at his friend. There wasn't much space between them,and yet, Lance felt like they were oceans apart. Lance thought that, maybe, if he could cross the space between them, Hunk’s warmth would help keep the fear at bay, at least for a little while. And yet, for all his talk of bravery, Lance was frozen in place. Hunk was probably still mad at him for ghosting the paladins, he wouldn't want him close anyway-

"Lance."

Hunk was staring at him.

"Y-Yeah, buddy?" Lance said.

Hunk squinted his eyes, a soft, unreadable expression on his face. "Come here."

Lance swallowed. He forced his muscles to move, closing the space between them. He'd forgotten how _big_ Hunk was. Not that that was a bad thing. It actually made Lance feel... safe. Wow. That was something he'd forgotten too. All these months spent alone, Lance had forgotten the feeling of being beside another paladin, of being beside _Hunk_. His best friend wrapped a strong arm around Lance's shoulders and drew him against his chest. And it didn't even matter that his family's dumb backup generator had gone kaput, that sweat dampened their skin, Lance wrapped his arms around Hunk's large tummy and held on tight. Why had he ever let him go?

Lightning flashed across the room, and Lance flinched against his best friend.

Hunk sighed and rubbed his shoulder in small circles. "Just a storm, man. I'm right here. You're all right."  

Lance's eyes fluttered before they fell shut. _Of course... It was just a storm_. Now that he thought about it, the storm didn't resemble the sounds of battle. Space had a way of muting explosions, making them sound distant and muffled from inside Red. And crashing ships had a distinct sound, metal grinding on metal, the sort that hurt your ears and made goosebumps crawl down your back. The storm was nothing like that. It was present and raw, and powerful, but it wasn't battle. It wasn't battle.

“Hunk?" Lance asked, nuzzling his face against the crook of Hunk's neck.

"Yeah, man?" he said.

"Stay with me."

Hunk tightened his grip around Lance and nodded. "Always."

And for the first time in a long time, Lance felt at ease.

 

* * *

 

Even before he opened his eyes, Lance knew something was wrong.

The steady hum and high-pitched whine of machinery rung in his ears, the noise near-deafening. It was accompanied by labored breathing, and his skin crawled when he realized it was his own. Each ragged breath sent a sharp pain through his side. His tired muscles ached and trembled underneath his Paladin armor. There was something warm and sticky dripping down the right side of his face. _Blood?_ His eyelids were heavy, the flesh surrounding them bruised and swollen. _What happened?_

Lance peeled his eyes open. The prison cell the blue paladin found himself was dimly lit by the fluorescent purple lights lining the ceiling. Panic, sharp and metallic on his tongue, ran through Lance's body. This was a Galra ship.

He shot upright. The world tilted horribly on its axis at the movement, the piercing pain in his side spreading like fire.

"Fuck," he coughed, bracing himself against the nearest wall. Lance stared down at himself and tried to swallow the dread creeping up his throat. Red streaked the chest plate of his armor, its metallic, acrid scent assaulting his nose. _Blood. Why was there so much blood-?_

Lance's heart stopped. _Hunk_. Everything came rushing back to him. They'd received a weak distress signal from some Balmerans in a distant quadrant of their current galaxy. He and Hunk had been sent ahead to investigate. They learned too late that it was an ambush. Where there should have been a Balmera stood a Galra fleet. Allura hadn’t even had time to reopen the wormhole before the Galra overpowered them. The last thing he remembered before the world went dark was gunfire and Red’s control panel rushing up to meet him.

At the thought of her, Lance felt Red's concern darkening the farthest edges of their bond, though it was dampened by the throbbing pain in his head. He could feel her though. That was good; it meant she was close. He needed to get out of here. But first, he had to find Hunk.

Just as Lance was getting his bearings, he heard the cell doors unlock with a _clang_ , sliding open to reveal Zethrid, a blaster gun in her hands. And absolutely nothing- not the panic, or the dread, or the overwhelming need to claw his way out of there- could have stopped Lance from rolling his eyes. _Oh, great._ Of all the ships he could end up on, it had to be Lotor's.

"Greetings, Paladin," she leered, "It's time we have a little talk."

He squared his shoulders. "Where's my friend?" Lance growled.

Zethrid's eyes gleamed with a sick sort of delight. "The Yellow Paladin? He refused to tell us what we wanted to know. He left us no choice but to turn to other means of persuasion."

Lance's stomach dropped. "What did you do to him!?" he yelled.

"We thought a visit to the Druids would loosen him up."

Something inside of Lance snapped. The paladin bared his teeth and lunged himself at Zethrid. The momentum slammed them against the wall, the impact stunning his enemy, and Lance swiftly kicked the blaster gun out of her hands.

“You’ll pay for that,” she snarled. Enraged, she backhanded the paladin. A pained grunt escaped Lance’s lips when his back hit the ground, pain flaring down his spine. Zethrid followed him, her fangs bared, and she kicked him the stomach. Lance groaned. Pain seared across his abdomen, the taste of copper on his tongue, and black dots danced across his vision.

Somewhere above him, Zethrid chuckled and turned to leave. Except, no, she wasn’t leaving, she was walking towards the blaster gun.

The realization washed over Lance like a splash of cold water. Zethrid was going to _shoot_ him. His breathing became erratic with panic, blood roaring in his ears, tears burning in his eyes. No, he didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not alone, not without saying goodbye, not without finding Hunk-

Her cape, he thought. Zethrid’s back was turned to him. The seam of her black cape was mere inches from his hand. Relying on strength and adrenaline, Lance heaved himself up, grasped Zethrid’s cape firmly and _pulled_.

The unexpected force had the desired effect, and Zethrid went hurtling to the floor. Lance swiftly sidestepped her massive body and drew his Bayard. Light flashed as it transformed into an Altean broadsword in his hands. Within seconds, he was on her, pressing the blade against her throat.

“Where is he?!” he shouted, his eyes feral. “Answer me!”

Zethrid’s eyes widened. Her hands clawed uselessly at Lance’s shoulders before she grabbed and pushed at his throat, desperation in her dark eyes. Lance let out a guttural growl. He wouldn’t relent. He was not going to die here. He was going to return home, and hug his mom, and laugh with his grandma, and _Hunk_. He was going to kiss Hunk. Lance’s eyes darkened with determination and he fought against Zethrid ruthlessly, his blade inching closer and closer towards her bared throat.

“Lance-” she choked out and _wait_. Wait, that wasn’t-

Lance squeezed his eyes closed and when he reopened them, the world came crashing down around him.

Pinned underneath him, illuminated by flashes of lightning, frightened breathing drowned out by the howling wind, an Altean broadsword pressed against his throat, was Hunk.

“No,” Lance whispered.

“Lance, please,” Hunk pleaded. Bruises were starting to discolor Hunk’s sweet face, and the blankets were tangled up around them.

The sword receded and Lance’s Bayard slipped from his hands. A strangled sob tore his attention to the door. There, arms wrapped protectively around Abuelita’s shoulders, staring at Lance as if she didn't recognize the man in front of her, was his mom.

He wasn’t on a Galra ship. He was on Earth. He was _home_.

“Lance-” Hunk started.

“I am so sorry. Hunk, I am-” his voice broke. “I am so sorry.”

And then he ran.

Outside, the tropical storm raged. Lightning tore through the darkness, chased by rolls of thunder. Lance was assailed by the fierce, howling wind, and pelted by the freezing rain.

It was frightening and miserable and cold but he had to leave, had to go somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anyone.

Lance couldn’t pinpoint the moment he had lost himself. The emptiness had crept up on him. It hid him away hundreds of miles across the ocean, where his friends couldn’t reach him, and haunted his dreams. It stole his rest, his smile, his laughter. It dampened the colors of his world. It killed the brave paladin inside him.

Hunk’s frightened face, his pleading eyes, his hands grasping at his throat, it all kept replaying in his head. He was a monster.

The soothing purr of an engine stopped him dead in his tracks. Through the pouring rain, Lance could just make out the silhouette of a magnificent beast. The figure towered over him, shielding him from the wind and rain, and her eyes bathed him in a warm yellow light.

 _Red_.

The concern he’d sensed through their bond in the nightmare, it hadn’t been a dream. His lion had come for him.

Red crouched in front him, dropped her head, and opened her maw, beckoning him inside. He didn’t have to think twice.

The lights flickered to life around him, illuminating the cockpit, systems coming online. He collapsed into the pilot’s seat, and only then, sheltered from the world by his lion, his clothes dripping wet with stormwater, did Lance allow himself to break down.

How had everything gone so wrong? The war was over, wasn't it? He was alive. What's more, Lance was home. All of the millions of galaxies and solar systems and planets spanning across the entirety of their conceivable universe were safe. And Lance knew that. He knew that because he had _made_ them safe.

And yet, the fear and emptiness inside him wouldn't listen to reason. Day and night, Lance was tormented by the crippling fear that there was still something out there- the Galra or some eldritch horror or a nameless evil- there, waiting for him. Coming for him.

So Lance had hid himself in Varadero, the place where he'd been born, the place where the world had once felt so small. But even with an ocean between himself and everything that freaked him out- the Garrison, the lions, the other paladins- Lance was scared, because nothing in the universe could save him from himself.

Lance had felt so hopeful before returning to Earth, but now, he just felt lost.

"Lance, buddy...? You in here?"

Lance startled, blood roaring in his ears. He wiped the tears from his face and whirled around.

Hunk hovered at the entrance of the cockpit. He was soaked. His pajamas clung to his body and droplets of water dripped from his hair onto his handsome face. Hunk was catching his breath. He had come running for him.

His heart picked up and Lance took a step back. "Don't come near me."

"Hey, hey, calm down," Hunk said.

Tears welled up in Lance's eyes. He was on the verge of panic. "Calm down? Hunk, I almost killed you!"

Hunk furrowed his brow in concern and shrugged a shoulder. "It's cool. It happens," he assured.

Lance stared at him, taken aback. "What?"

"Remember that planet with the mer-people? I tried to kill you too," Hunk said.

Oh, yeah. The underwater world with Queen Luxia and the Bakku Gardens. He couldn't really just forget a planet filled with hot mermaids. Still, completely different example.

"Yeah, but you were mind-swished!” Lance argued.

"And you were dreaming," Hunk shot back.

Lance's energy drained him. He slid to the floor and closed his eyes. If he had just told someone about his nightmares, maybe none of this would have happened.

He felt Hunk sit next to him on the floor. The yellow paladin wrapped his strong arms around his shoulders, drawing Lance against his chest.

"Let me help you," he murmured against his ear, his fingers combing through Lance's damp hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

Lance shook his head. He wouldn't know even where to start.

"Hunk, I can't-" he started.

"Yes, you can. We're a team, remember? But I can't help you unless you talk to me."

The blue paladin curled up against Hunk's side and shut his eyes.

"The truth is I'm scared, Hunk," he whispered. "I'm scared all the time." A large hand ran up and down Lance's back. It steadied him. "I'm scared of loud noises and storms and the dark. I’m scared the Galra will come back. Every time I get a call or a text, my heart stops, because what if it's someone telling me I have to leave home? And I'm scared of the nightmares. They're so real, Hunk, it's almost like they're-" he stopped.

"Like they're memories," Hunk finished for him.

"Yeah," his breath wavered. "How did you know?"

Hunk smiled at him sadly. "Because I have them, too, Lance."

"Wait. What? You do?"

Hunk nodded. "Oh, yeah, all the time. I'm scared, too, Lance. We all are."

A sobbed escaped past his lips as relief flooded his body. This entire time, Lance had believed he was alone, but he wasn't. He wasn't alone. Hunk, the others- they were here too. Lost and broken but _here_.

"I didn't want to tell you guys because I thought there was something wrong with me. I didn't want you guys to think I was a coward,” Lance cried.  

Hunk's eyes softened and he hugged him closed. "No, buddy, there's nothing wrong with you. What we're feeling, there's a name for it. It’s called trauma. It happens sometimes when you go through something that was really intense," Hunk explained.

It dawned on him then. The puzzle pieces that hadn't fit quite right finally fell into place. Lance wasn't broken. He wasn't weak or empty. He had trauma. He was _hurting_ , but if the blue paladin knew anything about hurt, it was that it healed.

"How do I fix it, Hunk?" he asked.

"Well, it's not that simple. We were kids, Lance. We were just kids who were tasked with putting an end to a war that had been going on for centuries. And you know what, man? We did it. We saved the universe and it was so awesome," he said and gently squeezed Lance's shoulders. "But now we have to go back to being kids again and that's going to take some time. Things are never going to go back to the way they used to be, but we can live with that."

Inside his heart, Lance knew hunk was right. If Voltron had taught him anything, it was that the paladins were brave and strong and resilient. They were survivors. They were fighters. And Lance didn't want to run from that anymore.

"Hunk, I- ... Thank you," he whispered.

Hunk rested his forehead against Lance's and brushed away his tears. "For what?" he asked.

"For finding me," Lance said. "I love you."

Hunk's eyes widened before a breathless smile spread across his lips.

"I love you too. You're not alone, Lance. I'm here."

Lance closed his eyes. Love and peace swept into the empty spaces of his heart and overflowed it, like the sea after a storm.

Hunk had found him.


End file.
